A wicked wind shrieked through the mountain pass, the beginning of heavy snow that soon transitioned into a brutal blizzard. Whiteout conditions blanketed the landscape surrounding Mahria, the howling storm unable to touch the cozy saffron city nestled deep within the mountain’s bosom. The ruckus of the storm outside transitioned to the happy clamor of bustling streets and crackling fires, the sounds of the city’s everyday life. These sounds were more muted than usual, however, as the blizzard’s onset made gathering materials and normal commerce much more difficult. Many decided to remain indoors, conserving their energy and spending time with family and friends. Parents read to their children by warm firesides, and the elderly told them all stories of bygone days only recorded in memory.

  There were some who couldn’t afford to take the time to rest, however. I begged Goran for extra training time, and since he couldn’t do much in this blizzard, he accepted. The girls groaned in shock and disbelief that we would have to go through that harsh training for eve longer now, but it couldn’t be helped. There was no time to sit idle and rest on our laurels. This wasn’t our permanent home, and we needed the power to earn ourselves a new one. We were lucky to have someone like Goran to instruct us.

  Over the next few days, I came close to regretting that decision. Goran put us through hell as he beat lightning-fast instincts into us through excruciating torment. His face showed no pity as he battered us into the dirt. We began to grow better and better at reacting to is attacks, our subconscious reactions to danger getting sharper and sharper. We needed to read him better, to strategize more, and of course to get stronger. We trained with each other when Goran didn’t have the time and ate hearty meals from our own food stocks or what Hagor was generously willing to loan us. Nourished by new sources of food while also exerting ourselves harshly in training, our muscles filled out and our bodies transformed. After just two weeks of hard labor, we confronted Goran in the training ring once again for the first match of the day.

  My eyes flickered to my left and right, catching the eyes of Ann and Julia before they flitted back to the opponent right in front of me. Goran held his sword aloft and in the ready stance, his body and face molded into a shape of total focus. There were no weaknesses or openings in that stance, as the master warrior gave us his full attention. We eyed each other from across that distance, weapons at the ready, waiting for somebody to make the first move. Or to be the first to show weakness. My mind remained as placid as a cool pool as I calculated who would be the first to move, planning out our options for attack calmly and rationally.

  As I suspected, Ann was the first to explode out of her resting position, charging toward her lone enemy with customary directness. Goran’s sword was already ablaze and swinging towards his impetuous opponent, but Ann was reading him carefully. She weaved and dodged left and right, sidestepping overhead swings, before bending backwards to avoid a horizontal chop, the stream of fire passing just inches from her face. Even at low power, that should have burned her slightly, but she gave no sign of pain or distraction as she charged forward anyways.

  Julia had also risen to the occasion and was speeding towards Goran’s right flank, walking the indirect path as my sister distracted the Maegar warrior from the front. Goran deflected an initial swipe from Ann as she grew closer and landed a kick on her midriff, sending her stumbling backward, before he was forced to start fending off Julia. But even as he defended against her advances, Ann started up her attack again. Obsidian blades flashed in the firelight, as Ann came at Goran from the front as Julia used her superior range to nip at his blind spots.

  As all this transpired, I circled around Goran’s other side. I approached more methodically than either of the girls, preferring a smooth initial approach. I positioned myself in Goran’s other blind spots, forcing him to constantly split his attention between all three of us in different areas. He danced and shifted, trying to keep all of us in his vision at once. We weren’t allowed to outright flank him and stab him in the back, otherwise this would have been over much sooner. However, I was allowed to linger at his periphery and lurk, and I did just that.

  I did nearly as much work as a normal fighter, forcing Goran to pay attention to me, and I slowly closed in and watched for my opportunity. I didn’t make any aggressive moves and just focused on dodging whatever he threw at me when he some room to breathe from the other two. This wasn’t sustainable, as they were tiring from the pressure, they were putting on the senior Maegar. Sweat dripped down their faces from the heat and exertion as they forced Goran to take a step back, then another as the master warrior held them back.

  Exhaustion was a two-way street, however, and I saw Goran’s focus shift into a grimace of exertion. The battle was fast paced and hectic, so it was fitting that its end came in a flash. Goran stumbled backward a little as he barely dodged one of Julia’s strikes, punching her back on the haft of her spear and sending her stumbling backwards. That meant that he was a beat slow bringing his sword up to block Ann’s own slash, my sister capitalizing on the opening. He pushed her back with brute force, but he was now very off balance as I closed in for the kill. I locked his sword in an X I made with my own weapons and, with a flourish, flipped the curved blade out of his hands and out of the arena. When I raised my right sword to his throat, he surrendered.

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  We had beaten Goran before, but it was usually only after one of us was already down. Now, we had defeated this once insurmountable opponent with no meaningful injuries. Sure, he was handicapped, but so was I, as I couldn’t use my technique. This was a meaningful victory for all of us, and the girls both let out squeals of happiness as Goran nodded his respect. Ann walked over to me and clapped me on the back:

  “Leave it to my kid brother to steal all the glory! You didn’t even do anything right up until you knew you could sweep in and steal all the glory!”

  She knew that wasn’t quite true. She was messing with me to get a reaction. But it was Julia who came to my defense first, saying:

  “That was all a part of a plan that you agreed to Ann! Goran would have beaten you right quick if Steve hadn’t been there to distract him. His strategy won us the fight, and won it cleanly, so he deserves the credit!”

  Ann only narrowed her eyes and grinned evilly at this outburst, sensing her own opportunity to strike at a vulnerability:

  “That’s exactly what I would expect to hear from his girlfriend. He may seem like a wuss sometimes, but my brother can fight his own battles, Clement.”

  As Julia spluttered a bit at the spiteful teasing comeback, Goran mercifully interrupted, saying:

  “You all have much to be proud of. To come so far so quickly, and to win so easily, is an accomplishment that few could match. I can see that you have worked very hard over the past weeks, and I believe you could us a break. The storm seems to be weakening, and it won’t be long until we are sent out again on new missions. Relax for the rest for the rest of the day and be prepared for the trials of tomorrow.”

  I acknowledged his words reluctantly. Even though we were riding an energy high, we were truly exhausted from the past two weeks. Goran’s words had popped the bubble of our high, and we found ourselves yawning as we packed and trundled out of the training center. We stopped home and washed up before our day on the town.

  Our first stop was Hagor’s workshop, which we mostly went to in order to make fun of Al for needing to work while the rest of us had a break. Well, it was mostly Ann’s and my idea, but Julia didn’t stop us. We caught the little man hunched over a small black knife, engraving tool in hand. We watched as he carefully lowered the tool down towards a small circle on the center of the crossguard and slowly traced out a simple looking character. Brown eyes scrunched in concentration as a single bead of sweat traced the contours of his brow and landed on the table. His face was eerily severe as he went about his work, the normal trickster’s gleam in his eyes uncharacteristically absent. When he finished, he set the tool aside and let out a small breath of relief.

  Alfred was startled when we applauded politely, jerked out of his dreamlike reverie. When he turned to look at us, I noticed his eyes were a little bloodshot, reminding me that the warriors of the party weren’t the only one's working hard. Quietly shelving the plan to give our friend some well-deserved mockery, I instead elected to extend some mercy. Smiling wryly, I said:

  “Why don’t you take a break, Al? I’m sure Hagor won’t mind getting rid of the mouthiest member of his smithy for a day.”

  On cue, the large man waddled into the scripting room happily and exclaimed:

  “You’re darned right I won’t! This little fellow sure does have a tongue on him. Only way I can keep him quite is getting him to focus on the job. I will say, he is a hard worker if he manages to shut up and focus. He’s done enough good work that he deserves a break for the day, if that’s what you want him for.”

  Surprisingly, Al got up from the bench and gave a short bow to the brawny smith, without a trace of irony, saying:

  “I would be grateful for the respite, master.”

  I saw genuine respect in that bow and realized that Al had grown in more than one way than one. He ruined it pretty quickly of course, as he straightened up and continued:

  “Can we bring Magor as well? I want to corrupt your goody two shoes son. At least I ought to see what he looks like drunk.”

  Right on cue, the younger smith poked his head in the room, eyes slightly wide in surprise:

  “You make me sound like a stick the ice, my friend. I’ll have you know I have plenty of fun. When there’s no work to do, of course.”

  The young Maegar rumbled out his protests, but Al just eyed him skeptically, quipping:

  “And when, exactly, is there no work to do, hmmm?”

  Magor just puffed out his chest in pride in response:

  “My father’s smithy is the best in town, and our scripting isn’t far off. We are busy year-round, with only one or two real days off.”

  In triumph, Al turned to Hagor and eyed him meaningfully, all trace of formality gone as my old friend transitioned back to his juvenile self. Hagor chuckled at the antics of his apprentice and son, saying:

  “Magor takes this work more seriously than me! I have trouble getting him to take a break and relax a little, which is a strange problem to have as a father! I remember when I was a kid, my Pa would have us scrubbing the smithy floors nonstop when he caught my brother and I slacking off. When those were clean, we had to do the neighbor’s…oh never mind. I’m getting off the trails. Magor! Do as Al here says. Have a nice time with some kids your age. Maybe get into a little trouble. Don’t tell your mother I said that, though.”

  With that, our gang of five left the forges behind and struck out into the town beyond.